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Phone Booth in Heaven
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Oh where are we going? Oh where have we been? Our hush-a-bye angel, she's safe and tucked in. I drive around town, while you sit and watch the rain. There's what you think with your heart and what I feel with my brain. For those who plant nothing but the seeds of the falling there is a phone booth in heaven that no one is calling. It sits on a highway that leads nowhere. I'll drop you a line next time I find myself there. Remembering them days, how we wore our weakness well. There's some say that heaven can't exist without hell, well if the proof's in the pudding, and that axiom's true, somehow the heart of the matter escaped me and you. For those who plant nothing but the seeds of the falling there is a phone booth in heaven that no one is calling. Though the ghosts of redemption might whisper odd promises, I for one don't put much faith in them specters. Now the blueprint for sorrow is just


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